Born in Fire
by Lu Baihu
Summary: A prequel origin story, the truth behind the Beautiful Beard Duke, Lord Guan (Yu) ... (will be renamed as chapter one of Origins)


## BORN IN FIRE

For Lynn: This is the origin story of one of the characters (Guan Yu), but you won't miss anything: this is a prequel before the beginning of RTK. Please review!

SETTING: Hedong (a town in Xizhou province). The year is 178, six years before Guan Yu joined Liu Bei at the beginning of _Romance of the Three Kingdoms_.

I am Guan Changsheng, a simple apprentice in Hedong. I have lived in this town, governed by the elderly magistrate Lao Zei. I was born in the propitious year 162 in the reign of the Emperor Huan, and now it is the reign of his son Ling. In this time I am aged seventeen years, on the sixth day of the seventh month. I am known throughout the town, and so I have developed an amicable reputation for knowing both the fine arts and the brutal strengths.

Entering the tavern, I am at once greeted by the citizens, for I have worked hard to help the people and town. When Huang Jun was ill in last winter, I took over the maintenances for his farm, feeding the horses and oxen. I also helped the others with their plowing, for people knew that my strength was such that I could plow my land in one day, and help half the town with their own. If asked, I would not hesistate to answer. Thus the people are happy to see me.

I sit with a group of four, all dressed in various outfits of grey or blue with different trims. Each is clean-faced with one mustached exception opposite me, as I take a seat facing the entrance. None is old, for I have known them through my lifetime to only be youthful in their 20s. They are chatting as one, and I pick up their line of conversation to be: "So true, so true!" "If only it were not!" "That she should be married so …"

Naively I make obeisance and ask, "How so is engagement faulted? If one is married, is not her family may advance in status and the husband's enriched? Why this bad talk to bring ill tidings to this good thing?" The four seem to hide snickers, and one adds, "Magistrate Lao Zei has announced his son's marriage." Lao Zei's son was proven to be arrogant, but carried himself with a good bearing, and I ask, "Then why do you lament?"

"You didn't hear? The magistrate's son has taken a local maiden already engaged," says one, and my whole attitude reverses. A crime of the highest order!

"What?!" I am outraged, and inquire for more. "When? How?" The speaker sighs, as if this were common knowledge. (It is, but no one would admit it.)

"You know Huang Chengyuan, the old man by the river." Indeed I do, his family has been rooted here for some time, and his daughter is considered very attractive. I'd heard she was already betrothed … "Betrothed as she was, the son took notice. By his order which his father approved, soldiers came in the night to detain her and she has not been seen since." This last part is in a hushed whisper, as worried stares go to the speaker.

"_Pi_!" (Damn!) I pound the table and rise in fierce wrath, while the other patrons turn away or try to coax me down. "Please!" the speaker begs, "Do not say such! I know this, if will only bring trouble to you and family," as he grabs my arm and pulls it down. All others attempt to pretend my nonexistence. Now I realize my own hotheadedness, and cracking my knuckles, I willingly slide down asking, "Where is she now?"

"The state house in the center of the city, she has been housed there. But the magistrate knows of his son's deeds, rejecting her family's pleas and posting his guards to hide her." So it is settled, I get up at once. "Where are you going?"

Not even turning to face the speaker, I answer, "Where do you think? I go to rescue the maiden. Though Master Kongzi (Confucius) spoke of filial piety from the subject to lord, he also said that evil must be withstood to its face. If ye can hold your tongue in the face of injustice, you disobey the prefects of the Master Scholar. How you look one another in the eye?"

I receive no answer as I leave.

**

It is the twilight hour; as the sun sets, so I plan it for the life of the wrongdoer. Earlier in the day I acquired a bland short sword from the local smith, who carefully required me to pledge silence and keep the worksmanship as unseemly as possible. In this manner I will do justice …

I stand before the gate of the state house, seeing the guard in chest and head armor with a untasseled spear. Keeping my blade as hidden as I can, I walk to him, to ask about the local matters. Mainly, the announcement of the wedding. Still, he replies, "No entries allowed."

"What? I am only Guan Changsheng, and I wish to congratulate the magistrate on this matter. Does he not accept these?"

The guard stutters for a reply, bringing his spear up, "You have been warned. The magistrate will not permit any visitors for him or his son, prior to the ceremonies." In my boiled rage, my resting hand in one motion has the sword drawn and cut, halving the guard's spear as he stumbles. Before he can say anything, I cuff him well in the jaw, rendering him unconscious. I realize this man as a neighbor of the smith's, and immediately make a small prayer begging forgiveness. Then I am off.

Anger relieved, I now take the spearhead and tuck it into my robe should I need it. Though I know not the house's construction, I realize a pattern in the hallways, and following the sounds, I come to a most horrid sight:

On the bed is the maiden, her eyes flashing with fear to her wrists, tied to the bedpost. Her robe has not been violated, but is a mere sheaf barely considered as one. The bully has his back to me, his own black suit like a wraith. His hands are testy, a man in the enraptures of lust. My oppurtunity is here; I cannot wait!

The maiden's eyes shift as I bring up the blade. The bastard's eyes are good, and he quickly spins to face me. He reacts with his fist, his right curving to my head. I duck underwards, and as he turns again bring my blade left – caught! He is not injured, and I double my grip on the sword for control as we duel. At this point, the girl kicks him from behind. This distraction gives me control, but it is lost immediately as he deals me a swift gut punch. Bowling over, I watch him retake the blade. I now raise my fist, but … what is this? My right fist glows, as the eyes of the wretch and maiden widen in awe. The luminescent yellow extends down my forearm yet no matter my efforts, I cannot raise it to strike. Then, a low and rasping voice in my head speaks:

"Let there be light."

With light, there is no restriction. I strike, fist and forearm halving the blade and neck. Indeed, my hand outstretches at the last moment, and I swear, I literally took his head off. Flying a meter away, his head strikes the wall behind the maiden, who sighs in relief.

The woman is relieved, not flinching as I cut the ropes. Gathering the lithe beauty in my arms, I am virtuous and give no glances to her, only to the way home. As her father has often sought my help, I know the way and dash as if she were paper in my hands, all the while oblivious to the two eyes at the window …

**

"Most gracious, most gracious! A myriad thanks!"

"No worries, Elder Huang. It is only my service," I give and raise the prostrating father to his knees, his fair daughter having been reunited and in the company of her mother while he presses gifts into my hands. Gold is refused, and I return the silks he gives me. "The bully was acting cruelly, and so I have slain him. Do not--"

"Hold rebel, do not flee! We are the magistrate's guards, here to catch you!" Turning my head, I see at once the night-black uniforms of mail, for these are indeed the soldiers, their swords clanking the pavement as they are led by a flag-wielding leader. I finish rather lamely, "—fear." I take leave and run away, drawing my sword. Fortunately the father and family are both ignored, the source of their animosity being me.

"Why am I chased? What is my crime?" I try in vain for mercy.

"You have slain the son of our superior; how can we not?" cry all pursuers, and I know peace is lost. Without alternatives, I must narrow the odds. Sliding my heels I grind to a halt, assuming a defensive posture. My challenge accepted, we meet to do battle, kicking over a nearby lantern in the scuffle for illumination.

I fight ferociously, swinging one way and another. The full moon is my ally, casting its gleaming beams to aid the fire in guiding my blade. Cutting this way and that I carve an arterial alley through two, leaping across to the street road while they pursue. Immediately I turn to sweep my sword, catching two across the chest. Soon, my robes and face are splattered in blood as the blade, glistening with silver moonlight.

Having been armored, the soldiers continue except for those caught by the hand or throat. Their leader, a dark-faced brute with a crested helmet of rank, leaps at me with his curved executioner's scimitar. I bring mine up, clashing with it for a bare second before I deftly jump away, for if I had kept locked his men would have charged me. Instead of this I pace myself, surging down the street in a flash of green. Now I retreat farther down for some time, until I near the edge of the town. A temple to _Tiandi_ (Emperor of the Heavens) is here, and my mother would talk about how he showed the virtue of mercy for those in need. At once I rush the door.

Inside, I collapse in a heap. Hopefully, _Tiandi_ will know my plight and perform some act to aid me …

Of course, he did nothing when his own daughter was drowned by a storm, so … fine, forget about that act. Oh well, at least I can count on myself to save me.

In a seeming eternity (really five minutes) I recollect my actions. Acting against advice of my peers, I slew the bully and rescued the maiden. Yet now I am pursued by the guards, forced to hide. Perhaps my family will be forced in kind to leave (even though they are not in this town). My reputation will be officially blasted. Have I done right?

But I also recollect the motives. The bully was immature, uncontrolling of his lust and disobeying piety. His own father is as corrupt, and so I have killed the son. But now I must neutralize the soldiers, who are uncaring of motives or justice and only see orders. The maiden was unjustly stolen, and the father unable to defend her. How can I not?

My mind is resolved, I must give battle. Yet before I can find some strategem, an ember falls to my feet. An ember? Looking up, two more fall. And three. I realize: the temple is in flames! Rushing to the window, I find the soldiers gathered and putting their torches to the walls. So blasphemous, that their inhibitions would not prohibit them from attacking Heaven! Then I realize, the plan is to draw me out where they may slay me. Yet if I stay, I shall be burned with the temple. May I go to fight or remain and draw them to me?

This too is fate! I can only endure …

**

"Perfect."

The leader turns to his men, who view the temple sharply as orange-yellow flames leap from the parapets. The pillars are about to collapse, so either the fugitive will fall to his death or be crushed by the upper floors. It shall do, and they advance in a tightening circle to find the body. In a giant _creak_ and crash, the floors give way and fall, crushing the lower in their wake and leaving only charred ruins in seconds.

The task done, the leader's flag is the signal and the men advance. The timbers glow, except for a bright, glaring flash behind a single pillar. With haught the soldiers line up in a single-man formation, the leader at the forefront. He draws his sword, cutting through timber and pillar. Not even the sacred bronze urns are spared as they are subject to the blade. At last he has reached the body, and reaches for the hand. But even burned, why does it gl—

CCCCCCHHHHIIIIIIIIIIIIIAAAAA!!!!

Once a line of soldiers … now a line of corpses.

The victor has survived, the battle is won in a single blow dashing, recognizing neither armor nor flesh in its righteous path. Relieved but weary, the hero strives to the well, to wash and cool. Then by the moon and fire, he is stunned. Can it be?

Yes, it can. The fire has taken its toll, and where once was a complexion of fair tan there is now red. Pure, blood-burned red. The price of victory is realized, and he knows now the ostracism of remaining. Turning to go, memories fill his soul and twin tears flow from his eyes, leaving their curved trail of tan across his mein …

**

Twenty minutes after the fire, only one guard was left to his post as the others inspected the ruins. New to the post, he did not recognize the man who slipped past his eyes, even with so prominent a face apple-red, with phoenix-diamond eyes and thick silkworm eyebrows. Thus, the man escaped to become a loner and fugitive with no history, and a new identity, as his beard grew "long as a cloud."

Guan Changsheng became missing in 178. Despite countless searches by citizens and guards, no one could find him. He had done his measure of justice, and paid fatally for it, even as Huang Chengyuan and his family were forced to move from the capital to Longxi (in Jing province). The people became righteous with shame in light of the martyr's deed and resolved their courage, in time bringing sufficient complaints so that the magistrate was forced out. However, they never heard again from the youth who had given them the resolve to do so much. There was one reason for his disappearance:

He died in the fire.

I am Guan Yunchang …

Born in fire.


End file.
